Done to Death
by Natmonkey
Summary: Alistair is wondering what his fellow Warden is doing with Sten inside her tent. The noises they are making speak volumes, but is that really what is happening?


_The title refers to the fact that scenarios like these have been done to death. Still, I couldn't resist it. _

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_Alistair's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline when he heard delighted laughter coming from inside his fellow Warden's tent.

"Oh _Sten_," her sultry voice purred from behind the canvas. "It's so big! I'm not sure if it will fit..."

"Nonsense, Warden," the qunari rumbled. "It must." A few rustling noises.

For a moment there was only silence, until it was broken by a feminine gasp. "Sten, please be careful! You're going to ruin it forever if you keep on like this."

"Warden..." There was a tone of annoyance in his voice. "You will be fine; surely this is nothing you haven't done before." A deep grunt followed, accompanied by a low moan from the woman.

"Not with anything this huge, that's for sure," she retorted.

Alistair, who was still as pure as the driven snow, made a face. What in the Maker's name was going on in there? He silently crept up to the tent to hear them better. A cacophony of noise came from within the tent. Noise that made his cheeks burn with embarrassment and, he admitted in shame, excitement as well. Before long he was joined by Zevran.

"What do you think they are doing in there?" the assassin whispered.

Alistair shook his head. "I would rather not think about it."

"And yet here you are, listening in on them." The elf sent him a smug look.

"Can you blame me? This is the first interesting thing that's happened in camp since... Well, since ever." Of course there was the time they had been ambushed by darkspawn, but that hadn't been exactly interesting.

"What are you two doing there?" Oghren unexpectedly shouted.

The two in question turned and simultaneously pressed their index finger to their lips with a "Sssh!". Sten and the Warden, however, were apparently so absorbed in whatever they were doing, that the sounds continued without pause.

The dwarf's face took on his typical lewd expression. It was the look he wore most. "Ah, the big guy and the Warden are coiling the ol' rope, huh?" His mouth stretched into a wide grin. "He's conquering her thaig, exploring her Deep Roads..."

"_Oghren_!" Alistair's face had become even redder than before. "For all we know, they're not even doing anything sexual."

"No?" Zevran raised a curious eyebrow. "The moaning and grunting does raise some suspicions. And I could have sworn I heard her say something about giving a little hole a good stretch."

The dwarf chuckled. "Always thought he was hung like a bronto."

"Spying, are we?" Morrigan approached, obviously curious at what her companions were up to. "What is...? _Oh_." Her yellow eyes nearly rolled from their sockets as more moans, groans and grunts came from inside.

"They appear to be uhm..." The spying Warden's face nearly had the same colour as a cooked beetroot. "They appear to be knocking boots."

The witch rolled her eyes and crossed her arms before her chest. "Perhaps they appear to be, but I strongly doubt that. If even I cannot get a rise out of Sten, then surely _she_ cannot hope to stand a chance!"

"Jealous, are we?" Oghren laughed and prodded her leg with his elbow. "You just wish it's you in there with him."

"Certainly not!" Narrowing her eyes, Morrigan shot him a mean glare. "I am simply disbelieving. If one were to storm in right now, why, I believe one would catch them trying on each other's helmets, or lacing their boots with new string, panting with the exertion. Alistair, you go in."

"What? Why _me_?" he whined.

Zevran patted his shoulder. "You are her friend. Surely she would forgive you for barging into her tent like..."

"Oh Sten, you're killing me!" suddenly echoed all over camp. Judging from the ecstatic sound of her voice, she didn't mind getting killed. Not one bit.

Alistair immediately jumped to his feet. "That's it! I'm going in!" He was dying to know what was going on in there, and if Sten really was killing her, he might still be able to save her. Without further ado, he pushed away the tent flap and stormed in, calling his fellow Warden's name.

Morrigan had been completely wrong. They weren't trying on each other's helmets, or lacing up their boots. No. Instead, they were both as naked as the day they were born. She was squirming in his lap, engaged in a particularly acrobatic position with one leg draped over his shoulder and the other supported on his arm, raised so high she looked liable to split in two at any moment. A large hand was eagerly kneading her breast. "Alistair, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing just barging in here?" his colleague cried out in fury. Sten took no notice of his presence, continuing to pump into her and biting her shoulder.

"I... I..." Feeling so ashamed he would have welcomed the earth opening up and swallowing him whole, Alistair slowly backed out of the tent. "I... uhm... Sorry!"

Sometimes, all is exactly as it seems.


End file.
